


Ease My Mind

by illgiveyouallofme



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, I'm not even sure what this is, John Silver is in love, John Silver is insecure, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, S3, ish, maybe? - Freeform, not the scene but the larger canon, this was supposed to be a one-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-04 21:36:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18821200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illgiveyouallofme/pseuds/illgiveyouallofme
Summary: You came out of nowhere and you cut through all the noiseI make sense to the madness when I listen to your voiceDarling, only you can ease my mindHelp me leave these lonely thoughts behindWhen they pull me under, and I can feel my sanity start to unwindDarling, only you can ease my mind-- Ben Platt, "Ease My Mind"Silver finds Flint playing the piano.  A quiet moment, set sometime during early season 3.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is... well I'm not really sure what this is. My first foray into BS fic, (and my first time writing fic in years). These boys just give me all the feelings. 
> 
> Title and scene inspired by Ben Platt's song, "Ease My Mind"

When he heard the haunting notes coming from the room upstairs, Silver immediately stopped what he was doing.  His ears perking up, he put down the ship’s log he had been deciphering, and moved toward the sound of the piano.  Even without seeing him, Silver knew only one man who could evoke such emotion, though he hadn’t known Flint could play. 

Silver walked up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible with the damned iron leg, knowing, without examining exactly _how_ he knew, that if Flint heard him coming, he would stop playing immediately.  But that sound, that music he produced, it was almost too much.  Almost as though it had reached inside Silver and drawn out his pain – his anger, his fear, and most of all, his anguish at being reduced to a one-legged thing, hobbling along and requiring support from the men.  He’d always been so self-sufficient, had to be really, but now?  It was nearly too much to bear. 

But that music…it took from him the pain he hadn’t been able to admit, or to process, and made it something entirely different.  Something tangible, something _beautiful_.  And for a moment, Silver wanted nothing more than to sit and revel in it, in his pain somehow transformed into music.  And by Captain Flint, no less.

As abruptly as it started, the song stopped and, after a moment, a new song began.  This, too, was unlike anything Silver had ever heard.  The barest tinge of sadness was still there, but nothing like the anguish and listlessness of before.  Instead, this song seemed peaceful, contemplative. 

Silver slowed even further as he reached the door to the parlor of the old house where they were lying low until they could return to Nassau.  For a few moments, he stood there, transfixed, watching Flint play the piano.  His back was straight as ever, strong shoulders sitting square, his head dipping down, quietly, completely entranced in his playing.  At first, Silver thought he was reading music and was duly impressed.  But when Flint shifted, Silver realized that his eyes were closed.  _And there was no music in front of him._  

“If you’re going to listen, you might as well come in.”

 _Fuck_.  He should have known Flint would know he was there.  Shaken out of his reverie—not that he’d ever admit that to Flint—Silver walked over to the piano, shifting his weight awkwardly to rest his hip against the edge of the instrument. 

He should have stayed there.  Hell, he intended to stay right there, only at the precise moment that Flint looked up at him a sharp pain radiated through his left leg, ending where his knee once began.  Though he tried to contain it, Flint noticed his wince.

“Sit down,” he commanded.

Silver looked around the room, but could not find anywhere to sit.  Other than the piano, the deserted parlor was almost entirely bare, save a corner table that looked almost as unsteady as Silver himself.  Pausing only a moment longer than he should have, Silver did what he was ordered, and sat in the only seat available – on the piano bench, right next to Flint. 

In another time, the bench might have been the perfect length for a young child to sit comfortably with his teacher, while he learned to play.  The bench was not, however, designed for two grown men, and Silver’s left thigh pressed against Flint’s right.  Silver wanted to pull it away, to gain some distance between himself and the man next to him, but he didn’t.  After a moment, he began to enjoy the feeling of his leg pressed against Flint’s, the latter emanating heat like a fire. 

“I didn’t know you could play,” Silver said. 

“Miranda.  She taught me, back in London,” said Flint. “Though, it’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity.” 

“Of course.”

They sat in silence a moment longer, before Flint’s fingers again began to move across the keys once again.  Silver stared as Flint’s hands—hands which, he knew, could do so much damage—played the instrument with such assurance, such grace, that Silver once more found himself transfixed by the music.  Except this time, it wasn’t so much the music as the man playing it that had Silver in a state of awe.  The man sitting who continued to be an enigma to Silver.  He was a bundle of contradictions: at once violent and gentle, cunning and naïve, self-assured and wrapped in insecurities.  It didn’t make any sense to Silver, never had.  But still, he felt the irresistible impulse to unravel this mystery and see, once and for all, the man who Captain Flint truly was. 

After what seemed an eternity of them sitting there, the song eventually ended.  The silence was too much for Silver, seemed filled with grief and hope and something he couldn’t name. 

“I’ve never heard any music like that before,” he said, needing to fill the silence. “Who is the composer?”

Flint turned, and, for the first time since he entered the room, looked Silver in the eyes.  Somewhere, behind the mask that was “Captain Flint,” Silver saw the answer.  It was, after all, quite obvious.

“You are, aren’t you?  You wrote that song,” he said, sounding much more sure of himself than he felt.

“Yes.  Sometimes, the only way I can seem to get through the day is by writing. Some sort of remnant, I suppose, of Miranda.  Some way to keep her with me.”

“And this song, did you write it for her?” Silver asked, unconsciously holding his breath.  Some part of him, the part he refused to name, hoped the answer was no. 

Flint didn’t answer.  Instead, he turned back to the piano and closed the lid over the keys.  _Of course_ , Silver thought, _just when I think he’s going to actually tell me something true, he closes himself off again._ Frustrated with Flint’s recalcitrance, and even more frustrated with himself for caring about Flint and Flint writing music and Flint writing music _for_ _someone_ , Silver stood up.  With as much poise as he could muster with an iron leg, Silver strode across the room, back toward the door. 

“It’s about you.”  The words were so quiet he almost missed them.  That he almost walked out the door, never hearing the answer he had hoped, without ever daring to hope, that he would hear.  He’d known that he was important to Flint, known that he was _useful_ to Flint.  But this?  Somehow, with those three words, Silver knew everything he had ever needed to know.  Because if he could write music, it would be about Flint.  And that, to him, said everything. 

Still, he had to be sure.  “What did you just say?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

“I said, it’s about you.”  Flint stood up, away from the piano.  Slowly, he walked over to Silver, stopping right in front of him, only a breath away.  Flint’s green eyes caught Silver’s blue ones, and refused to let them go.  “It’s about you, about how you’re the only person I can stand to be around anymore.  How, even though I don’t want to, I think I need you.  And how it scares the hell out of me.”

“James,” Silver said.  It was the first time he’d ever called him that, ever said his given name aloud.  Flint caught it too – his lip twitched and his eyes, _oh god, his eyes_ , flashed with too many emotions for Silver to read.  In Flint’s eyes, Silver saw hope, fear, and his own yearning reflected back to him.  And he wondered, _how long had it been since someone had spoken this man’s name?_  He knew of no one, save Miranda, that ever called him James.  The power of a name struck him once again, and he became giddy, almost drunk, on it.

“James,” he began again, “I…”  

He didn’t go on.  But he didn’t need to.  Not breaking eye contact, Flint reached his arm up and ever so slowly wound his hand in Silver’s loose curls.  Silver’s tongue darted out and wet his lips, causing Flint’s breath to hitch.  Here they were.  After all the months of half-smiles and sideways glances, they were finally, _finally_ , where they belonged.  Silver snaked both of his arms out and grabbed Flint by the waist, unsure whether he was pulling the other man in or simply clinging on for dear life.

Flint held Silver’s gaze for what seemed like an eternity, seemingly content to simply stay in his embrace and breathe the same air as him.  But it wasn’t enough for Silver—always the greedy one, he leaned in and softly closed the gap between his lips and Flint’s.

What started out as soft instantly ignited like wildfire.  The spark between them that kept them alternately at each other’s throats and by each other’s sides finally burst into what it was always meant to be.  The passion between these two men threatened to consume Silver entirely.  He’d always known Flint was a force of nature, but with his tongue slipping into Silver’s mouth, licking the insides of his lips, Silver was ready to drown. 

Flint’s hand fisted tighter into Silver’s hair, pulling his head in and keeping it locked in place.  With his other hand, Flint grabbed onto Silver’s shirt and pushed him backwards to the wall.  As Flint pressed his body fully against him, Silver could feel the weight of Flint’s desire pushing against his belly, not far from where his own cock throbbed inside his pants.  Silver used his hold on Flint’s hips to grind slightly against him, eliciting a delicious moan from the other man.  Flint pulled his lips away from Silver’s, kissing first across his cheek, then down his jawline, stopping briefly to tug on his ear with his tongue.

“Oh fuck, James,” he hissed, writhing, stuck between a wall and a very, _very_ hard place.  Flint huffed a laugh against his skin, but continued his assault, kissing and sucking down Silver’s neck with the same wicked concentration he carried into battle. 

“It’s a good thing you have long hair,” was all he said, before biting into a particularly sensitive spot right above Silver’s collarbone. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Flint dragged his tongue across Silver’s collarbone and down his chest.  He found one of Silver’s nipples and put it between his teeth, biting and tugging just enough to have Silver leaking in his pants, but not enough to hurt. 

Then, Flint did the unthinkable.  He did what Silver barely allowed himself to consider, even in his wildest fantasies.  Once again locking blue eyes with green, Flint unwound his hand from Silver’s hair and slowly dropped to his knees in front of him.  Using both his hands, he gently pulled Silver’s shirt out of his pants, then pushed his pants down just low enough for Silver’s cock to spring free. 

“Fuck, yes,” he said, looking at Silver’s exposed body with something like awe.  “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do this.”

“Not nearly half as long as I’ve wanted you to, I think,” said Silver, slightly shocked that his voice could sound so steady, when every bit of him was quaking inside. 

Still looking up at Silver, Flint slowly licked the underside of his cock, before sucking slightly on its head.  Smiling at the moan Silver let out, Flint did it again, only this time slightly faster.  Now Silver wasn’t just moaning, he was positively whimpering.  Finally, Flint took pity on him and wrapped his lips fully around Silver’s shaft.  His hands snaked up and grabbed Silver by the ass, exerting just enough pressure to keep Silver from bucking his hips. 

As in all things, Flint was clearly an expert at sucking cock.  As his head bobbed back and forth, Silver tried with all his might not to thrust his hips – well, not too much anyway.  Finally he couldn’t take it anymore, and threw his head back with a shout as stars burst in his vision.  As he emptied himself into Flint’s mouth, he looked down at the man before him. 

Silver wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a more beautiful sight.  Flint, with his red hair, piercing eyes, and black leather coat, looked like Lucifer himself after he’d fallen to earth.  Too lustful, too dangerous, too tempting to turn away. 

Slowly, Flint pulled off of Silver, and stood back up.  When he leaned in to kiss Silver’s lips, Silver could taste himself on his tongue.  “My turn,” Silver said with a smile, already pushing away from the wall.

“No, not now,” said Flint.  “The men will be wondering what’s been taking us so long.  We’d best get back to them before they come looking for us here.”  He meaningfully glanced down at Silver, still partially undressed, and quirked an eyebrow.  “Even for you, this might be a bit hard to explain.”

He was right, and Silver knew it. 

“Fine.  But I’m not done with you yet either,” he said in reply.  “You’ve had your fun, I expect to have mine later.”

“Come to my cabin tonight,” Flint said.  “I’m sure we can find something for you to do.”  With that, he pressed his lips to Silver’s once more, straightened his coat, and strode out the door.  Silver hurriedly righted his clothes, but, before following Flint—his captain, his enemy, his friend, his _James_ —turned and gave one last look to the piano. 

“He really is one hell of a composer,” he said, aloud, to the empty room.


	2. The Way You Say My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an eventful afternoon with the Captain, Silver had to find out if there was more to them than mutual pining and lust. What he discovered was something entirely different. 
> 
> Title of Chapter also inspired by Ben Platt's song "Honest Man"

He could do this. He wanted to do this. Hell, he would do this. So why wasn’t he doing it?

It was usually so easy to knock on the Captain’s door. Sometimes he didn’t even bother to knock, just barged right in to give Flint a piece of his mind. So why couldn’t he do it now?

What happened between them this afternoon had seemed so effortless, seemed destined to happen. But, now that he’d had a chance to cool off (though perhaps “cool off” wasn’t exactly right: he’d been half-hard all day), taking the next step seemed so very difficult. What if he went inside the captain’s cabin only to find that Flint had changed his mind? That he no longer wanted John as much as John wanted him? 

Silver had been vulnerable in front of Flint before, but never like this. When he’d lost his leg and Flint had insisted he stay in the captain’s cabin until he’d recovered, he’d been vulnerable in nearly every way. Every way except one. And now, as he stood outside the door separating him from the man he loved, he wasn’t sure he was ready to take that last leap into vulnerability. To be truly himself in front of Flint, in front of James, with no pretenses left. He wasn’t sure if he was ready, but by god, he was going to do it anyway. 

Finally, he raised his hand and rapped softly on the door. 

“Come in.” 

John pushed open the door to find Flint standing at the window, staring out onto the sea. On his desk was a bottle of rum, apparently unopened. Beside it sat two glasses. 

“I wasn’t sure you would come,” said Flint, still facing away from him. 

“To be honest, neither was I,” John admitted, “but I had to know.” 

“Know what?”

“Whether this thing between you and I is a one-time arrangement, or if it could be something more.”

“I don’t think it could be something more,” Flint said, finally turning to face John. John tried hard to keep his face neutral, despite feeling his heart nearly shatter in his chest. He looked down at the floor, blinking back the tears that had sprung up unbidden. He shouldn’t have come after all. 

“I said, I don’t think it can be something more, John,” Flint started, approaching Silver and putting a finger under his chin, lifting it until Silver was forced meet his eyes. “It’s already everything to me.”

A dam broke in Silver. He surged up toward Flint, finding his lips and hungrily placing his mouth there. For once in his life, he didn’t have any words. Didn’t need any words. In this moment, John was his truest self. 

Flint responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Silver, pulling him in close and holding him there. Their tongues dueled against each other as they both fought for dominance. Silver couldn’t keep his hands still, allowing them to roam over Flint’s chest, back, and neck. He brought one hand up to Flint’s head, scraping his short nails over the base of Flint’s skull, eliciting a delicious moan from Flint. 

For his part, Flint moved his hands to Silver’s chest, tugging his shirt out of his breeches. Breaking the kiss, Flint pulled Silver’s shirt over his head and threw it aside, his own following shortly thereafter. 

Flint leaned back toward Silver, looking to kiss him again, but Silver, well, he needed a moment. He’d known Flint had freckles, of course. But the sight of his chest, bare and heaving and positively covered in them, was almost too beautiful to bear. He reached out and lightly traced his fingers across one of the myriad scars that marred Flint’s freckled skin, then bent down and traced over the same scar with his tongue. At his touch, Flint hissed out a breath, his eyes fluttering closed. 

“Fuck, I need more of you. I need to feel more of you,” James breathed. 

John stood up, slowly undoing the laces on his breeches and reveling in the way James’s eyes followed his fingers hungrily, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. 

This was it. The moment John had most thought about. The moment he’d looked most forward to, and most dreaded. James had always been able to see through him in a way others couldn’t, but still, he worried about what James would see when he saw him, completely bare, standing before him. Would he be repulsed by the one-legged creature? Silver knew the other man wouldn’t say anything if he were, but still, he just couldn’t bear to see the look of disgust he was sure would flash in Flint’s eyes. His hands stilled on his laces, suddenly feeling unsure. Letting some of his hair fall into his face, he risked a glance up at Flint. 

What he saw in those green eyes wasn’t disgust at all, but understanding. Ever so slowly, Flint closed the gap between them, placing his hands over Silver’s. 

“You must know, your leg means nothing to me. To me, you are whole. And I don’t give a fuck if you disagree.” 

Still, Silver couldn’t move. Flint brought one hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. 

“I know you want to run. Don’t. I’ve seen all of you, John Silver. Seen all of you, and it isn’t enough for me. I won’t be satisfied until I’ve had all of you, and you all of me. Until we’re both completely spent, lying sweating on the bed, or the floor, or where-the-fuck-ever. That’s when I’ll be satisfied. And—“ he paused, increasing the pressure on Silver’s hands just enough for them to both feel how hard he was beneath his pants, “and it seems to me you won’t be satisfied until then either.” 

“Goddamnit, you really know how to get people on your side,” said Silver, his insecurity suddenly gone. With a grin lifting the side of his mouth, he removed his hands from his own breeches, and began undoing Flint’s instead. After a moment, Flint picked up where Silver had left off, until both pairs of breeches—and three boots—were lying on the floor. 

For a few seconds, they just stood there, drinking in the sight of each other. Neither of them moving, electricity seemed to grow and spark between them, exploding into flames when they met, lips clashing together, chest pressed to chest, legs intertwined. Their hands were everywhere—tracing each other’s shoulders, Flint winding his fist in Silver’s hair, Silver pressing on the small of Flint’s back to bring him even closer. Their cocks, free of the constraints of their breeches, rubbed together, creating delicious friction only heightened by the movement of their hips as they ground against each other. 

“Let me fuck you,” Silver growled into Flint’s mouth, causing the other man to shudder. “I need to feel you.” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” responded Flint, pulling Silver backwards onto the bed. 

Flint held Silver firmly as he climbed onto the high bed, refusing to let him stumble or fall. He laid on his back and pulled Silver on top of him so he was straddling Flint’s hips. Despite the haze of lust that clouded his vision, Flint couldn’t help but notice Silver’s slight wince as he put weight on his bad leg. Knowing that showing any sympathy now would only cause Silver to close off again, Flint wordlessly slipped the pillow out from under his head and placed it under Silver’s knee. Before he had a chance to protest, Flint grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down for another deep kiss. 

After a few moments, Flint broke the kiss, squirming under Silver so he could reach something on the stand next to his bed. “You’re going to need this,” he said, pressing a small vial of oil into Silver’s palm. 

Silver opened the bottle and quickly spread the oil over his fingers. He then reached beneath Flint, who obliged him by lifting himself slightly off the bed, hips grinding into Silver’s to create even more of the friction Silver craved. Silver ran his oil-slicked fingers over Flint’s bare ass a few times, before finding his opening. After teasing Flint a little, he pushed one finger inside the man. 

Good god, he was tight. Silver pumped his finger in and out a few times, giving Flint some time to adjust to the intrusion, before adding a second finger, and then a third. With each thrust of his hand, Flint took him deeper, desperate for Silver to hit that spot inside him that would undo him completely. 

“Jesus, fuck!” Flint cried, causing Silver to smile. He’d never seen the Captain so unhinged, and knowing that he did that — with only his fingers — sent a thrill of excitement through his body. Slowly, tantalizingly, he pulled his fingers out, and went to work slathering oil on his throbbing cock. He could see Flint’s eyes hungrily following the movements of his hand on his cock, so he made sure to give him a show. He wanted Flint squirming beneath him. After all, Flint had promised earlier that he could have some fun. 

“If you don’t fuck me this instant, I’m going to take matters into my own hands.” 

John paid no heed to his threat. “I think not, darling,” he said, pushing himself inside Flint with one powerful thrust. He stilled for a moment, allowing Flint to grow accustomed to the feeling of John inside him. 

“Fuck-ing finally,” Flint breathed, his face breaking into that half-smile he wore when he was feeling particularly witty. “Now, let’s see what that gorgeous cock of yours can do.”

This time, Silver was only too happy to oblige. Shifting slightly on his knees, and oh so grateful for the pillow Flint had given him, Silver began to move in and out of Flint. At first, he moved frustratingly slow, letting his body rub against Flint’s cock as he moved. But Flint felt so good, so tight and hot, that he began to move faster and faster. 

Underneath him, Flint was writhing on the bed. One hand was gripping the bedding in a vice-like grip, while the other found his way to Silver’s lower back, urging him on. His eyes were wound up tight, breath coming in shallow pants. He looked wild, unraveling before Silver. He looked glorious. And Silver had made it so. 

Silver shifted the angle of his hips and drew Flint’s legs around his waist. Finally, he hit that secret spot inside Flint, causing him to shout Silver’s name. 

“Open your eyes,” Silver commanded, “I need to see you, need to see you come.” 

Flint did as he was told, opening his eyes and locking his gaze on Silver’s. He came apart beneath Silver, shuddering and shouting, his emerald eyes never leaving Silver’s face. As he climaxed, Flint spilled himself onto both their stomachs—binding them together in yet another way. 

The sight of Flint coming tipped Silver over the edge. Too frantic to keep a steady pace, Silver’s hips stuttered until he, too, found his release, yelling the only word left in his mind:

“James!”

Spent, he collapsed onto Flint’s chest, arms too weak to move. Flint lazily traced his fingers up and down John’s back, in a steady rhythm that nearly put him to sleep. With a sigh, Silver pulled out of Flint and rolled onto his side next to him. Wordlessly, Flint leaned over and grabbed a damp cloth from his bedside table, cleaning up first Silver and then himself. 

“Stay with me tonight,” he said softly, tucking a strand of curls behind Silver’s ear. 

“You know I can’t,” replied Silver, “what will the men think?”

“I don’t give a damn what the men think,” said Flint. “You’ve slept in my cabin before.”

“But that was different—” protested Silver, albeit weakly. Truth be told, he didn’t give a damn what the men thought. He had no intention of leaving. He just thought Flint should be reminded of what it would mean. 

“If not for the men,” Flint asked, sounding hesitant despite what they’d just shared, “would you stay?”

“If not for the men, I’d never fucking leave this cabin again.”

“Good. Then stay with me. Please.”

“Of course I will,” Silver relented, “who am I to deny such a request?” He reached one hand up to caress Flint’s face, tracing his fingers along his jawline. Dipping in closer, Silver pressed a kiss to Flint’s lips, then sat up and began removing his iron boot. 

Once that task was completed, he settled back down against Flint, placing his head on Flint’s chest and wrapping his arms around Flint’s slim waist. After several minutes of lying there with Flint’s fingers tangled in his curls, gently rubbing his head, John felt his eyes drift closed. 

That night, John Silver slept better than he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ease My Mind was only meant to be a one-shot, but then it gripped me and wouldn't let me go. I hope you enjoyed the ride (pun very much intended) as much as I did.


End file.
